The Keystone
by Petaldancer
Summary: Lovino Vargas is the unprepared Heir to the Roma Famiglia, one of the most powerful Mafia Families in Italy. With Feliciano by his side, can he tackle the challenges, the paperwork, and one tomato-bastard? AU. Spamano.
1. Lemons Are Used In Cologne

**AN: Hello! Welcome to the Hetalia story: The Keystone. **

**This is my second hetalia fanfiction, so I hope it gets good criticism and love!**

**Enjoy!**

**(EDIT: Oh I just realized the first chapter was missing a very crucial part... frick. Well, I reuploaded it so for those who just read it... you should probably scroll down the page a bit.)**

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><p>Lemons Are Used in Cologne<p>

"Boss Antonio, You can't just walk out of this deal!" Their feet shuffling on the pavement, his own henchmen ran after him. Light spanned across the warehouse through the broken windows, a man wearing a pinstriped suit was sitting in front of where he stood before.

He stopped to watch dust speckle his perfectly shined black shoes. The footsteps behind him halted, leaving an echo in warehouse. The entrance to the warehouse slowly cracked open, the screeching sounds resounded through the building, as the rest of the Mafia stood silent.

A nervous laugh rang out from the pinstripe-suited man and he began to speak feverishly.

"Your mother in Spain, she is doing well right? I doubt she can handle her job being taken away from her."

The Boss turned his chestnut hair to glare at the smirking man behind him.

"She's fine and she'll stay that way." he turned to face the man threatening his mother.

"Which reminds me, how is your wife? Pregnant isn't she?" Antonio returned a sly smile etched into his face. Forest green irises lowered to the man sitting before him, the smirk on the man's face sliding off at the mention of his pregnant wife.

"Don't you dare touch her!" The man stood up from his chair, clenching his fists.

"My mother will continue to be in good health and prosperity then."

The man glared daggers before tensing and looking down in tight resignation.

"Good."

Antonio walked out of the warehouse, his henchmen following behind. The desolate silence left in the warehouse was tangible.

"Boss! Boss!" He turned to his right hand man, Ciro; absentmindedly brushing some of the dust off his expensive suit.

"What is it?"

"Why did you just walk out, Boss? That deal was worth two million Euros!"

His gaze turned dark and Ciro resisted the urge to back away from his Boss. Antonio reached into his suit, pulling out a middle sized manila folder.

As they walked to his classy black limo he gave the folder to the curious man and they sat on the leather seats; one of his henchmen closing the door behind them.

"Take a look at this, you'll understand then."

Ciro flipped open the flap and pulled out a couple of papers, rummaging through them. Antonio sighed and pulled out a mini bottle of wine, popping the lid with the car's bottle opener, and let the fizz calm down. He closed his tired eyes and leaning back into the leather-cushioned seats a bit, he drank the contents of the rich wine. Letting the alcohol calm his nerves, he placed a ring-covered hand under his chin and waited for Ciro to finish reading the papers.

His forest green eyes wandered out the window and watched the shady houses blur by, men and women in poverty living in broken down rooms, holes in some parts of the roofs. He then saw a patch of auburn hair, a single curl that was bouncing and defying gravity. The man attached to it had a face as red as a tomato, and seemed very furious. He was being surrounded by a slew of men in black, presumably henchmen from some mafia family.

_Probably some innocent bystander._ Antonio thought to himself, curiosity piquing his interest.

One of the suited men grabbed the aurburn man's forearm and he jerked his arm away, yelling at the man. _Woah, what is he doing here anyway?_

As Antonio leaned closer to the scene, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"That is just sick."

"What?" Antonio turned back to Ciro, peering at him in confusion.

"This… what they do to those children is sick." Ciro pointed at the manila folder.

"Oh," the Boss blinked at his right hand man and then his face brightened in comprehension, "Yes, so after Concetta did some digging, she found their underground human trafficking business, and so I've decided not to deal with them."

"We… we can't let them get away with this."

"Yes, I agree." He nodded his head of chestnut hair and gave Ciro a comforting pat.

He put down the bottle of wine in the chiller and giving instructions of a change in location, he settled down with a serious glint in his eyes. The scene he witnessed outside forgotten.

"Ciro, contact the Britannia."

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><p>"Fucking Feliciano. Stupid brother." Lovino cursed his brother from the Vatican to Germany, "Stupid wurst loving bastard." He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk but missed. "Stupid pebble." He huffed and continued to stride down the cracked sidewalks of his old poverty stricken neighborhood. "Ever since Feliciano met that potato jerk, all he ever does is talk about him," he imagined the German in his mind so he could punch him, "it's like I don't even exist, damn it."<p>

There was a pause in his steps and he sighed. Looking down at his shoes to dust some dirt off the expensive leather, he straightened his _Armani_ shirt. At the age of 23, why the hell was he the heir of the Roma Mafia Famiglia?

A persistent scowl on his face dimmed slightly into a more somber expression.

It was only 5 years ago that their grandfather found them in this neighborhood…

"Come on Feliciano, we have to go…now!" He pulled at the back collar of his 15 year old, younger brother's shirt." The shady grocery store they were in was a regular sight for the two brothers. Lights flickered and people walked in between the isles, their dirty, ragged clothes showing obvious poverty.

"But Lovi, look at this pasta~" He pointed, at the premium, high quality rigatoni—albeit the grime that covered the package was a little unattractive—the pasta was something that the two orphans could never afford.

"No, this pasta is too expensive, we have to go pay! Now!" His temper started to rise and Feliciano glanced back at his brother with tears in his eyes.

"But the pasta…"

"We already bought four packages of cheaper pasta, _idiota fratello_." His voice rising in volume.

The younger Vargas lowered his head in defeat, "Okay..."

"Go and line up at the cashier, I have something I need to find."

The younger Vargas looked up with a panic, "But, Lovi—"

Lovino covered his brother's mouth and glared.

"Don't be afraid, coward, it's just a cashier line. I'll be there before you have to pay, so don't start panicking just because you don't have money with you (since I do) like you did last time and run out of the line again." He raised a threatening fist to his brother, "We had to go all the way to the back of the line. There were like thirty people behind us, _chigi!_"

He released his brother's captive mouth so that the idiot could breathe and then waited for the other Vargas to calm his nerves.

Feliciano rubbed some of the tears from his eyes and nodded, "Okay, _fratello_."

With a sudden flip of mood that caused his older brother to blink at the whiplash, and a bouncing skip, he got into the line and waved merrily to his older brother.

The scowl on Lovino's face immediately deterred him from more cheerful waving.

The irate Italian looked back to the shelf with the premium pasta, another scowl on his face when his brother started singing some Japanese song from an anime show. He glanced back at his brother and then towards the package once more, his hands tensing.

_Alright, no one is looking… _

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><p>Feliciano stood in the line, careful not to bump into the pregnant lady in front of him. Ve~ his brother was so scary when he was angry. With the start of a little tune he had once heard, he took into account the food they had bought, categorizing which foods went into which dishes they would be preparing for the following week. <em>Mozzarella, cilantro—<em>Feliciano made a face at the cilantro—_a baguette, tomatoes, basil, oh, we can make bruschetta!_ He smiled at the ingredients, _pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta…_ the brunet then frowned a little, as he thought back to the high-quality pasta that he had wanted to buy.

The fact that they were often low on money had always worried him, and Lovino had lost his job a couple of months ago. Yet for some odd reason, whenever their income started being dangerously low and they started rationing their food, Lovino would suddenly pull money out of nowhere (since he obviously didn't have a job) and they would be back to three meals a day. He thought his brother's ability to pull money from somewhere in dire times was incredible!

The younger Vargas, in his thought process, was startled by a small tug at the back of his shirt.

"Mn?" He made a curious noise and looked down behind him. A little auburn-haired girl with one tooth missing and rags for clothes was smiling back at him. She played with her pigtails for a moment, looking a little shy, and Feliciano smiled at her cute gesture.

"_Signore_," she began, "could I have some money?" She reached out her small hands, but then gave a wide-eyed look that made him instantly "aww" in his mind.

With a suspicious, dramatic turn of her head left, then right, she motioned for him to get closer. He complied and bent down to her height, trying to resist giggling at her overly serious expression.

"Don't tell my mom," she whispered, "she said I shouldn't ask strangers for money."

"Well," Feliciano began with a mock whisper, "you shouldn't. You shouldn't even be talking to strangers." He smiled a bit at her nod.

"I know but, mommy has been really sad lately because she lost her job and no one wants to give us money." She looked down, a little down-trodden, but smiled again when she looked up at him, "So! I want to give mommy some money so that she won't be sad anymore!" Her smile broke into a grin that stretched across her face.

"Pleeeeeeeeease?" and her hands reached out again, cupped together as if she were going to hold water.

Feliciano was touched by the girl's intentions; however, the money wasn't his and he couldn't just give away his brother's hard working wages.

He told the girl just that.

She looked at him with such disappointment that he couldn't help giving her a small hug for consolidation.

"Ve~Don't worry, things will be alright in the end!" He explained, showing his best smile, "I'm sure that even if you didn't give your mommy any money, she would still be happy if you were by her side."

The girl frowned at his explanation, clearly not understanding what he was trying to say.

"But how can mommy be happy with just me? What can I do?"

Feliciano patted her head and grinned, "Just smile that adorable smile of yours, tell her you love her, and that'll make her very happy."

"Oh!" She exclaimed, but then jumped and put a finger to her mouth, "Shhh."

"Shhh." He responded.

"Sir. Sir?" A deep, gravely voice caught his attention.

Feliciano whirled around to realize that he was up next, what would he do? He didn't have any money with him besides a couple Euros. Where was Lovino?

"Oh, um. Ve?" He stumbled, "Oh could you um—hold on a second or two? My brother has the money, please wait." He tried to stop himself from running out of the line in panic, Lovino would kill him if he did it a second time.

"Put the groceries here. I'll take care of them."

"Oh, um. Okay." As he looked down in his basket to place items next to the cashier, he couldn't help but feel a chill down his spine. He could feel the cashier's eyes on him, relentlessly.

"Ve…there." He stated, slightly meek and very unnerved. The man leered with a creepy smile and leaned closer to him.

"That will be—"

"Oi! Bastard, what are you doing staring at _mio_ _fratello_ for?" Feliciano cheered in his mind, thank God that Lovino came!

"Lovino! I didn't run out of the line this time." He greeted his brother, trying to ignore the man who was still staring at him.

"You shouldn't have done it in the first place, _idiota_." Lovino commented, and then glared back at the cashier who just leered back at him, the creepy smile erased from his face.

"I'll pay you, damn it, but your customer service sucks." After handing in the correct amount of Euros, he dragged his brother out of the shady store with grime covered plastic bags filled with their groceries.

As they walked out, he saw Feliciano waving to a cute little girl.

Afterwards, Feliciano gave a deep sigh of relief.

"Ve~ thank you Lovi! I think that man wanted to kidnap me or something."

"He sure was a creepy bastard," Lovino agreed, but after giving his brother a pat on the back, he lectured, "next time some bastard like that starts staring you down, don't just stand there and take it, _idiota_. Slap him or something! Or run away screaming. A manly scream of course." His brother smiled and nodded with a "Ve~"

They walked home into their shady apartment, climbing up 3 flights of stairs, and after his brother cursed all of Holy Rome trying to find the keys, they entered their home.

That day, Feliciano was in charge of unpacking the groceries, and as he rummaged through the pasta section, he paused.

There was the bag of high quality rigatoni that he had begged Lovino about!

Feliciano held onto the package and jumped up, cheering and ran to his brother's bedroom.

"_Fratello, Fratello!_" He bounced onto the irate Italian that was lying face down on the bed, "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Lovino grumbled his muffled response, "Ge' off 'er me, chigi."

The bouncy 15 year old complied and after Lovino sat up, Feliciano gave his brother a tight squeeze.

"I love you, _Fratello_!"

"I didn't do it for you, damnit," Lovino grumbled under his breath in a sour tone, but his brother wasn't fooled since there was a tomato red blush spreading across Lovino's face.

"Of course, Lovi." Feliciano smiled happily and gave him another hug.

"I'll cook dinner tonight."

"Sure, chigi. Make sure to use up the cilantro." Feliciano made a face to that.

"You need to eat your greens, damnit." Lovino ordered.

"Ok, _fratello_…" his younger brother sighed before going back to the kitchen to unpack the groceries; still cheered by the pasta that he had gotten as a gift from his brother.

Lovino sat in the bedroom and laid back with a sigh of relief.

Thank God his naïve brother didn't ask how he got the pasta without going through the cashier.

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><p>Lovino remembered the morning after very well.<p>

He was counting the amount of money they still had left, and things weren't looking up. His idiot brother was still snoozing, but Lovino had work to do.

Well, it wasn't really work; He was one of the best after all.

Leaving a note on the run-down fridge explaining to Feliciano that he was going to go into his… funds, Lovino grabbed a piece of toast, drank a cup of disgusting cheap American coffee (it was the only thing they could afford), and then made his way out of the door, making sure to put his jacket on.

He, being cautious to never be caught, always chose different areas each time he had to provide a little cash for their little apartment.

This time, he chose one of the more prominent parks, although the risk was higher because of their willingness to involve the police, they were always much more foolish with their belongings.

Lovino smirked and casually made his way into the flora rich gardens of the park.

_The lemon trees make a nice touch,_ he commented absentmindedly, looking for a good spot. He found his hiding place between two of the fresh scented lemon trees, hiding in the shadows of the leaves. The sunlight shifted through the trees, and casted dancing shadows along the ground. As he waited, he spotted a muscular man wearing rich clothing, sporting a high-quality suit and fedora hat; two curls protruded from either side of his head. Lovino cocked his head mentally, the man looked extremely familiar, but he couldn't place it. He sure looked much older though, and being as how muscular he was, Lovino decided not to target him.

Soon after, two women were coming along the corner of the narrow grove and Lovino chose to make his move. Coming out of the trees, he brushed off any debris before pulling out a bible and adjusting the wooden cross around his neck, he buried his face in the bible, making sure to cover his features. The oldest Vargas began to walk towards their path, making sure that he would walk right into them.

The two women, Rosa and Adelaide, were chatting about the new estates their husbands had bought and how their businesses were currently running. When a young man, and quite handsome too, was reading the bible and ran straight into them, drawing exclamations from both and knocking Rosa over.

She closed her eyes, prepared for the fall but was surprised when she felt a pair of arms surround her waist and a whiff of faint lemon-like cologne assault her senses. She opened her eyes and immediately blushed at the intimacy of their position, the young brunet with a peculiar curl in his hair, but nonetheless very handsome, looked at her with concern.

"I'm so sorry, _signorina._" He said in a smooth voice and lifted her back to her feet before quickly stepping away, a faint blush on his cheeks, and both Rosa and Adelaide noted the wooden cross, obviously well taken care of, that hung from his neck.

"Oh," Rosa began, "I-it was nothing really."

"I must apologize, really, I—"

"Think nothing of it darling," Adelaide interrupted before he could fumble more.

"Are you sure, _signorina?_ I could—" He blushed even further when Rosa smiled and held out a hand to stop him.

"I am sure that it is nothing, please, continue on your way." The young man looked down, the blush still there on his face, and then looked up with a very slight smile.

"May you be in god's grace, _Signorine."_ He waved at them and with a blush, ran in the opposite direction.

The two ladies were left charmed by his purity and honesty.

On the other hand, Lovino smirked to himself as he glanced at the Euros he stole from both women. Taking a quick account as to what was there, he figured that the amount of money he "worked" for would be able to keep him and Feliciano well fed for at least a week and the women he doubted would notice the lack of a few papers lighter in their purses.

He was walking out of the groves when a hand snatched his arm and yanked him back, abruptly causing him to yelp a manly yelp and crash into a muscular figure.

"What the hell—?" Lovino didn't dare finish his sentence as he turned around to look at the rude person who grabbed him.

It was that fedora man from before. His eyes widened and he tried to stop himself from panicking. This man couldn't possibly have known what he had just done; he was far-gone from the scene by then. He had to act normal and in his role.

"What is it sir?" He tried to say, but the words were caught in his throat when the man stared down at him.

Suddenly he realized, shit, he was tall; and muscular, beefy, unnaturally like a bull. Lovino swore that the man could squash him flat. Hell, he could _imagine_ it happening, and then he would never go back to his idiot brother and who would feed his gaping appetite for pasta? He gulped as the man glaring down at him narrowed his eyes.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit, the bastard knew! He totally knew, and now he would be sent to jail, or worse, he would be squished like a rotten zucchini or pop him like ravioli. He could feel tears watering in his eyes as he continued to wait for the man to say something—anything but that knowing _leer_.

The man suddenly grinned, and patted his head with a heavy, beefy, muscular hand, and then laughed a deep laugh that scared the shit out of him.

"Your grandfather would be very impressed with your skills, _bambino_."

What the fuck?

Then man patted his head again, ruffling his hair into a bird's nest, and then walked out of the grove, laughing like he just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Lovino could only stare as he walked away, hands in his expensive pockets.

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><p>Ah yes, Lovino traveled back to the present with a headache and he pinched his temples. That was the most mind-fucking moment in his life.<p>

That, however, was not why he was in his old neighborhood.

It was to get away from his stupid brother and his stupid wurst-bastard who had taken over his breakfast that morning with stupid potatoes!

He fumed in his mind and tried to kick another pebble only to miss again.

"Arg!" He shouted in frustration.

"Sir!"

"Sir!"

Oh God, he thought he had lost them.

Several men and women in black suits came running up to him, their sleek black shoes clapping on the pavement.

"Sir, I thought we had lost you for a moment." Lovino scowled, "You are needed back at headquarters. The group of lackeys surrounded him.

"Fusilli," he addressed the man using his code name, "what do you need me for? I thought _mio_ _idiota_ _fratello_ and Fettuccine had the newly built nurseries under control?"

His brother and his friendly assistant Fettuccine were in charge of any new buildings and architecture. In fact, most of the artistic qualities in their main buildings had been the work of his brother.

Their current project was a little charity for the large expanse of families that worked and were loyal to the Roma Famiglia. A nursery for their children where they could be dropped off and their parents could work without worry that their children would be targeted. The building itself was extremely secure and had very high-tech systems to make sure the children were safe at all times.

The Roma always took care of their own.

"That is not why we are here, Sir." Lovino made an irritated noise.

"Then what the hell is it?"

"_Signore_ Feliciano stated that he wanted to speak with you on a personal matter."

"I bet that he wants to talk about his relationship with that bastard!" the Roma Heir spat, walking through the crowd of lackeys.

"Sir—" one of the men grabbed at his arm, "please don't go—"

"Get your hands off me!" He whirled around, pissed, "Tell Feliciano and Gramps that I won't be coming home tonight!" A limo, which was odd to see in such a poor neighborhood, zoomed by. Lovino paid no mind to it, he snapped at his "bodyguards" and strode away in a huff.

"But, Sir!"

"Don't follow me!"

"Sir!  
>He broke into a run.<p>

When he wanted to escape, all of Roma knew they would never catch him.

He ran far away, lifting his legs to pump the pavement. The rest of his bodyguards watched him flee away with sighs in their hearts.

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><p><strong>AN: So what did you think? This has been swimming around in my documents for a while so I just thought I might post it. I'm kind of hoping that this story will bud into something wonderful, since the characters seems to doing their own thing here and I am a slave to their actions. <strong>

**Just so all of you know, there are going to be spots of different languages thrown in here. Spanish, Italian (as you can already tell), French, Chinese, Japanese, and so on. All languages besides english will be in _italics. _**

**This story takes place in Italy, although my researching is kind of limited. So I'm sorry if there are any mistakes in the story.**

**Overall, here are some translations:**

_Signora_-Lady in Italian

_Signorine_-Ladies in Italian

_Signore_-Sir or Mr. (I'm using it as Mr. since there is a distinction between the two in English.)

_Idiota-_Idiot in Italian

_Fratello-_Brother in Italian

_mio-_My in Italian

**Please review and I'll be super happy! And as all writers say (not really), "A happy author makes a better story." (That part is true. I swear :D )**

**Love you all! Thanks M for the pointers!**

**Have a wonderful day!**

**~Petaldancer**


	2. Smiling When It's Cold Should Be Illegal

**AN: Hello everyone! It turns out that by some horrid mistake, I left out a crucial part of Chapter One. So if you haven't read Chapter One after 08/03/11, then you should read Chapter One again. Things will make much more sense then. **

**Otherwise, thank you for those who reviewed! Remember, reviewing will make me write faster...(:D)**

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><p><strong>Smiling When It's Cold Should Be Illegal<strong>

Antonio smiled cheerfully at the two men who stood guard in front of Arthur Kirkland's Office.

"I'd like to speak with your Boss."

"And who are you, Sir?"

"I am Boss Antonio Fernandez Carriedo of the Spagna Familia. Arthur Kirkland has personally invited me to his office." His smile grew wider and started to unnerve the two men standing guard.

"S-Sir I'm not sure if we have permission from—"

"What are you twiddling idiots doing?" A voice came from behind the double doors, distinct to the Boss of Britannia.

"Antonio, come in. Don't let the dolts halt you." The Spagna Boss gave a cheerful wave at the two men and shoved past them, opened the doors and walked in; Ciro following close behind.

The room flourished with treasures that he had pilfered from the trade ships they often intercepted. Although Britannia's headquarters were in Venice, his control of Italy's trade expanded all throughout the country, owning many different ports and sinking any ships that invaded Britannia territory without permission. Including many of the Spagna ships a decade ago.

They had fought many wars but after a few years they settled down with an agreement.

"So what business are you here for that you would request _my_ assistance?" Arthur rose from his oak desk and walked to one of the furnished cabinets, pulling out a bottle of rich French wine. He made a face, "The frog-bastard keeps giving me bottles of wine and obscene… toys." Arthur glanced at Antonio's clueless expression with his emerald eyes and then sighed, "Just tell Francis to stop sending me 'gifts'."

"Alright." Antonio nodded.

"So really now," he beckoned his old enemy to sit in the chair in front of his desk and he grabbed the wine glasses, "what are you here for?"

The Spaniard waited for the wine to be poured into the glasses before he spoke, "The Guaio Familia," he leaned forward to swirl the wine in his glass, "have you heard of them?"

Arthur shook his head and Antonio laughed.

"I'm not surprised, I hadn't heard of them either until they tried to strike a deal with me." Arthur raised a thick eyebrow; there weren't many families he hadn't heard of since he had connections and alliances with so many.

"They must be rather small then."

"Yes," Antonio nodded, "they offered to pay for our drug manufacturing expenses, two million dollars, if we would be in alliance with them."

Both of Arthur's eyebrows rose, "That is quite an unusual deal."

"It was, so of course, I decided to look them up." They both took a sip of wine.

"It turns out that they were trafficking children, kidnapping them from nurseries, orphanages, and schools to sell as sex slaves." Arthur narrowed his eyes and Antonio's smile faded into a frown.

"They shove the children into the cargo bays and then ship them off to different areas."

"That is disgusting." Arthur drained his glass of wine, "so I am assuming you want me to stop these ships? Do you have the names of the ones they use specifically?"

"No, but I do have the ports they sail from. I think the reason why no one has caught them is because they use different ships each time. One of my spies told me that they leave from these ports." He pulled out a sheet of paper from the manila folder he brought with him and placed it in front of the Britannia Boss.

Arthur subconsciously rubbed the emerald ring on his index finger as he read the paper; the Spaniard knew that the emerald ring was the heirloom to Britannia, proof that he was the Boss. He had a similar, forest-green emerald ring.

"Ah yes," Antonio was pulled out of his musings, "I have access to these ports. All of them actually." Arthur took the paper and made a copy of it. "I will close down these ports three days from now at 12:00am. However," he paused and glanced at Antonio with a smirk, "you'll have to do the searching." He poured himself another glass and refilled Antonio's. "I have plans I must attend to. If you can't find any of Guaio's lackeys, then contact me and we will figure things out from there."

Antonio nodded, grinning at the fellow Boss and shook his hand.

"I'll make sure to take care of them personally."

"Yes, of course, I expect no less from my old enemy."

"Pirate."

"Cheerful Bastard."

The two men sported feral grins.

"Have _fun_ with Alfred, Arthur."

Antonio left with a chuckle at the sight of Arthur's red face.

* * *

><p>It was quite late already.<p>

Lovino sat in his and Feliciano's favorite Chinese restaurant, Cai Long, nursing a strong mug of delicious Italian espresso. The restaurant was owned by Wang Yao, a friend of Gramps and nearly the same age as well, although he looked quite young. Probably from all the Chinese medicines he was always subjecting himself to.

The place had an oriental feel to it: red, black, gold, and dragons set the theme. Either way, the staff at Cai Long was considered part of Roma, although it wasn't official.

With a sigh, Lovino placed his head in his arms, trying to smother the jealousy building up in him.

It was true, that for some reason he was chosen as the next Roma Boss, the one to replace his grandfather. But even on Gramps' sick bed, the Roma Boss always asked for his younger brother to accompany him and teach him what he could.

What about Lovino? His actual heir? The man smiled at him when he passed by but all he could conjure up was a scowl for his predecessor who taught him nothing of how to run a Mafia Family.

_Stupid Feliciano, always taking all the attention. _He rubbed his eyes on his sleeves before cursing, realizing that he might have gotten tear stains on his very expensive shirt.

"Stupid shirt—"

"Lovino-san?" The Vargas looked up from his sleeves to see that Kiku, a friend of Feliciano's that he actually liked and a waiter in the restaurant, was peering at him in concern.

"Mn, Kiku," he spoke in a quiet tone, trying to swallow the lump in his throat from his crying, "w-what's up?"

"I should be asking you that, Lovino-san. You look troubled." Kiku took the seat in front of him.

"It's nothing, ch-chigi."

"It doesn't sound like nothing. Please, tell me if you'd like." It was then that Lovino noticed Kiku had brought out another cup of espresso and placed the drink in front of him, taking his older, now cold, cup.

"Thanks."

Kiku nodded in response. Lovino then took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and began to tell him what was troubling him; because real men expressed their feelings dammit.

By the time he was finished, the darkness had expanded and the moon was already in the middle of its cycle.

Kiku patted his hand, "I believe your grandfather means no offense."

"Like Hell." Kiku smiled slightly at his Lovino-like denial.

"To me, it seems that he has a plan in store for you. You are very important to the _Kazoku_, the Family, despite how you believe other people think you are not as crucial."

Lovino frowned in thought, not seeing what Kiku could possibly be hinting at.

"Think of it this way, Lovino-san. The Boss of a _Kazoku _is like the keystone in an arch." The heir leaned in slightly, interested in Kiku's comparison with architecture.

"The other stones that hold the arch together may be ornate and complicated, showing off fabulous designs and carvings; but it is the keystone that prevents the entire arch from collapsing."

The older brother's eyebrows rose in comprehension. Causing Kiku to smile at his expression.

"So you see, Lovino-san, that when you become the Boss you will need to be that keystone. As I said, perhaps your grandfather has plans for you or you are already in his plans but are just not aware of it."

Lovino drew back into his seat, leaning against the cool leather. Perhaps this might be the case. "But what about _mio_ _fratello?_" he brought up the other point, "I swear that potato-bastard is going to steal him away from me."

Kiku couldn't hold back a giggle so he pretended to cough into his sleeve to hide his smile.

"Perhaps you should talk to Ludwig, himself?"

"You know him way better than I do," Lovino muttered.

"Hm, then perhaps you should get to know him as I do," Kiku rose from his seat, "Ludwig is quite a nice person once you become acquainted with him."

Lovino scowled and rose as well, noting the street lamps already lighting the roads.

"That muscle freak better not hurt Feliciano. I just know that my _idiota_ brother is going to fall for his macho-potato ways." He cracked his knuckles as threateningly as he could (despite his thin build) and then tried to hand the proper amount of Euros for the coffee to Kiku, but was refused. After a little arguing about the bill (Kiku won), he glanced at his watch to see that it was already 12:06am.

"Thanks, Kiku. I better go back home before Feliciano freaks out and sends a search party out… again."

"Any time, Lovino-san." With a wave, the older Vargas left the restaurant.

He stepped out into the streets and wrapped his arms around himself. Dammit, it was cold.

Lovino started his long walk back to headquarters. The shadows were uninviting and he tried not to stare into the dark for too long, afraid that something terrifying would spring out.

As he turned a corner, however, he ran straight into a solid body and he screamed shrilly.

"Holy… You have a good set of lungs on you." Lovino scrambled away as fast as he could, looking at the man he ran into. He had brunet hair and was smiling like the fucking sunshine in this damn cold with only a t-shirt on; a t-shirt that had a big red tomato on it.

A quick affirmation that he was dealing with an idiot.

The man stepped closer, "So what are you doing here?"

Lovino gulped, a tall idiot. Fuck, why was everyone so tall?

"W-what?" He stuttered, trying to back away but the man just stepped closer.

"What are you doing out here?" The other man raised his voice as if questioning his own question.

"I should be asking you that, tomato-bastard!" He summed up his most ferocious scowl.

"Tomato…bastard? That's a new one." The man laughed heartily, causing Lovino to stare at him incredulously. How can anyone laugh like that while it's so cold?

"Fuck, you're an idiot."

"You have a dirty mouth." The older Vargas turned bright red, puffing out one cheek reflexively.

"Ahaha, now _you_ look like a tomato!"

"Shut up, tomato-bastard!" His face heating up even more, "Why the hell are you walking around at—" he checked his watch—"12:32 in the night wearing a damn t-shirt and _smiling?_"

The man blinked and then laughed, "doesn't everyone?"

"Fuck, he really is an idiot." He muttered under his breath.

"I heard that."

"Shut up." The heir started to walk in the direction of Headquarters, to his soft warm bed. The idiot followed.

"So why are _you_ up walking around this late?"

"It's none of your business, tomato-bastard."

"At least let me walk you to wherever you want to go?"

Lovino whirled around, irritated, "we just met, bastard. Do you really think that I would let a stranger "walk me home"? I'm not some little kid that you can kidnap and sell off to the black market, creep."

The other man frowned, "I am nothing like those disgusting people."

"How the hell do I know you're not lying?"

The man stared down at him looking serious, and Lovino realized he had really nice forest green eyes…

"I am _nothing _like those disgusting people."

It pissed Lovino off that he automatically believed him.

"Whatever, tomato-bastard!" his face sporting a blush again, he whirled back around in the direction of his destination and started to walk a fast pace, hopefully too fast for the man behind him.

"You know, I have a name." the man called behind him cheerfully.

"I don't want to know it."

"Sure you don't. My name's Antonio!"

"Fuck, I told you I didn't want to hear it!" He turned around once more and pointed a long, graceful finger into the man's built chest. "If you are going to decide to "walk me home" (of which I never even said yes to) on your own, at least follow my rules:

One, don't tell me your fucking name. You already broke that rule, so I'm going to call you fucking tomato-bastard from now on.

Two, if I ever see your face again, I will kill you with every piece of weaponry I have. Including spoons, dammit.

Third, I am not going to tell you my name. Ever."

Each time he pushed his fingers into the man's chest, making sure that the smiling idiot nodded to each of his rules.

"Okay." The tomato-bastard nodded.

"Good, now I'm going home."

"Alright." They continued to walk in silence until Antonio—er Tomato-bastard opened his mouth again, "So where do you live?"

"You are such a creep."

"No I'm not! I already told you that I'm nothing—"

"Yeah, yeah."

There was a hearty laugh behind him afterwards, "Are you sure you don't want to tell me why you were out here all alone?"

"I said it was none of your business."

He was suddenly stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Does it have to do with the men and women in black suits that are trailing after us?" The voice was cheerful, but Lovino felt a shiver under his spine, automatically sensing something dangerous about this man.

Lovino made a move to look behind them, but the tomato-bastard whispered in his ear, making him freeze and his heart pound loudly in his chest.

"I think they might be after you. They look like they're part of the Mafia. Maybe even the Roma Familia." The heir was shocked at this man's knowledge. Who the hell was he?

No one outside the Mafia could identify specific mobs so quickly. Was this an opposing family? The information that he was the Heir to Roma was only given to those they trusted, but maybe it had been leaked to an enemy. What if he really did want to kidnap Lovino?

"You didn't do anything to upset Roma did you?" The man backed away from his position near Lovino's ear and grabbed his hand, "Nevermind, I'm sure you have no connection to them, don't panic. We're going to try and lose them."

The man sprinted forward, his hand in Lovino's grip and dragged the distraught Italian with him. He could hear his own henchmen and bodyguards chasing after them, the distinctive slap of their sleek shoes following them.

"Fusilli, that man went in there!"

"Fuck, we have to stop him!"

"Boss will be so pissed."

Lovino stumbled along, the other man taking the lead, and fear grew in his heart. Was this man just a naïve idiot or was he an enemy?

They dashed into the alleyways, the shadows obscuring their path.

He jumped over a bag of trash and then skidded to a halt, putting all his weight into it. Sending the tomato-bastard's arm to jerk behind him and causing him to stop.

"What is it?" He turned to face the irate man and tugged on his hand to move them along but Lovino refused. The shorter man wriggled his hand out of the tomato-bastard's grip.

"You are a fucking idiot. What the hell do you think you are doing?" Lovino shouted, livid and terrified. "Are you here to kidnap me or something?"

"Wha—" the man's expression turned from hastening to utter confusion.

"Because I can guarantee you, you aren't going to succeed!" Lovino yelled as loud as he possibly could, trying to catch his henchmen's attentions. That plank of wood looked like a good weapon—

"Hush!" A hand covered his lips and muffled his sounds, but suddenly the tomato-bastard blushed and immediately retreated his hand. "I'm sorry that you think that I'm trying to kidnap you," he began, keeping his voice at a whisper, "but I'm not. Those men are from a prominent Mafia Familia called the Roma. They're really ruthless to those outside of their family and you seemed to be in trouble when you walked out of that restaurant because they started tailing you then. So I thought I could help and walk you home…" He trailed off at the incredulous stare Lovino was giving him.

This idiot just had to be a really freaking _nice_ idiot. Not only that this tomato-bastard had gotten him in an impossibly hard situation. There was no way that he could tell this man that _he was_ the fucking heir to the Roma Famiglia. He had sworn an oath not to tell those in other Famiglia. This man was definitely a Mafioso. A really stupid one.

"Look, _idiota_," he began, mentally sighing before making up his mind, "let's go before those Roma bastards catch us." What in God's name am I doing?

The man nodded and immediately made to grab Lovino's hand but the Heir pulled away. The tomato-bastard looked at Lovino in confusion and the Italian scowled, pulling the idiot by his sleeve, "Don't show me that you're a freak and bring me to my house without my directions_, _chigi."

"Oh, right." He nodded and Lovino lead the way, running away from his own fucking Famiglia because he had a goddamn idiot trying to save his not-needing-to-be-saved-hide. He didn't even understand his own logic anymore, but he did know that at least his guilt for bringing this idiot into a whole bunch of trouble (even though it was totally the tomato-bastard's stupid fault in the first place) was being soothed.

He ran his full speed, surprised that the other man had only a little trouble keeping up. Wow, this man was really fit.

Finally they reached the gate of one of the safe houses that he often used when the Roma Famiglia had business closer to the area. He wasn't so much of an _idiota_ to bring the tomato-bastard to the Roma Headquarters; that would totally defeat the purpose, chigi.

"I think we lost them," the man said, panting, "Whew you run really fast when you want to."

"Shut up, tomato-bastard." Lovino pointed at the man in the chest once more, "now remember the rules: Never show your face again. Ever."

The man frowned slightly, sending something weird fluttering through his stomach. He must have had too much espresso or something.

"Okay…" The fluttering turned into pebbles—no, big fat rocks, dammit.

"Alright, now leave. Before the Roma henchmen track you down."

"Right." The man shuffled his feet, looking downtrodden; then he turned away and started walking.

Lovino felt guilt pierce through his chest, "w-wait, bastard!"

The man turned around, the frown still present, although his eyes lit with curiosity.

"T-T-Th," he stuttered, trying to force it out, it was the least he could do, "T-Thank you." Fuck, he needed sleep. He was giving gratitude to strangers who tried to help him run away from his own freaking men.

The idiot's frown immediately lifted into a sun-defying grin.

"Don't think too much about it, tomato-bastard!"

"Alright! I'll see you later!"

"No, chigi, you'll never see me again!"

"Right. Bye!" He ran off into the alleyways, the red of his tomato-shirt dimming in the shadows.

Lovino waited for his henchmen to catch up to him so they could take him home.

Shit, he had a lot of explaining to do. 

* * *

><p>That night, after explaining and calming down his lackeys for a good half hour, they got into the limo and returned back to headquarters. Home.<p>

They had to travel along a cobblestoned road in the expanse of a deep forest, used for a little privacy and to prevent enemy Famiglia from finding headquarters so easily.

The intricate black gates opened, leading to an expansive garden full of different fruit trees, flowers that mixed with the fresh scent, and ornate statues of the nine muses pinpointed each corner of the garden. A fountain of Aphrodite and her son, Cupid, let out a steady stream of water that cascaded into the base, resulting in a soothing bubbling sound.

Behind the gardens stood headquarters, a tall, roman style, four-floor mansion with west and east wings.

Lovino waited for the tall doors of the mansion to open and he walked in as quietly as he could, hoping that his brother would be asleep and he could just sneak in without the entire ruckus.

This plan was foiled, however, by Fusilli.

"Sir!" He shouted in the entrance hall, getting Lovino's irate attention.

"Sorry sir, but I just wanted to let you know that we will try to search for the identity of the man that tried to "help" you tonight."

The heir slapped himself on the forehead in frustration, "Fusilli, these are orders: Do not search for that tomato-bastard of a man."

"But Sir—"

"An order, dammit!"

Fusilli bowed, "Yes, Sir…"

"Good, now leave, before I get mad at you, chigi."

His head henchman gave a little smile, the heir was surprisingly nice at times, even though he swore like a sailor.

"_Buonanotte_, Sir."

"Whatever, _buonanotte._" He crossed his arms and glared at the man as he left. What the hell was he smiling for, chigi.

The doors closed with a slow creak, the lock resounding through the spacious empty hall, Lovino let out a sigh. Today had been an especially long day.

He cursed to himself and made his way up the long flight of stairs. Stupid stairs, why do they have to be so long?

By the time he was in his quarters, he was dragging his feet over the carpet. He passed his brother's bedroom and opened the door quietly, peeking inside.

The large king sized bed was empty of its usual occupant.

Lovino frowned as he was struck with loneliness. The _idiota_ must be at that German's house tonight. It wasn't like he expected Feliciano to wait for him to come home or something, right.

But it was okay, dammit, because he was Lovino Vargas, and he could handle a little loneliness. He swallowed a lump in his throat and wiped at his eyes before walking into his spacious closet that was separate from his bedroom. He wearily folded his clothes and then, still in his boxers, he went into the bathroom to prepare for bed. Padding over to his bedroom, the moonlight in the halls did nothing to comfort him.

But as he walked into the darkness of his own quarters, he saw a lump hiding under the sheets.

The lump slowly inhaled and then exhaled, signifying that it was indeed a person. Lovino held his breath and a soft "Ve~" confirmed that it was his little brother sleeping in his bed.

He had waited for him after all.

Lovino couldn't help let a small smile pass his lips. Because it wasn't like his brother was a sweet kid at times. Really he wasn't.

He wiped his eyes once more and carefully lifted the sheets, sliding into the cool silk and next to his _fratello_.

"Lovino…" Feliciano mumbled, half-asleep, and wrapped his arms around his waist. "You came home, Ve~"

"Go to sleep, _idiota_."

"Mkay."

Note: Famiglia, Familia, and Kazoku all mean Family in Italian, Spanish, and Japanese.

As you might have noticed, each Family's members are named in code for specific things.

The Roma Famiglia's members are named after pasta, for example.

You'll have to figure out the other families as they come along! :D

* * *

><p><strong>Note: Famiglia, Familia, and Kazoku all mean Family in Italian, Spanish, and Japanese. So for those who thought I misspelled Family, I didn't! Muahahaha.<strong>

**As you might have noticed, each Family's members are named in code for specific things. ****The Roma Famiglia's members are named after pasta, for example.**

**You'll have to figure out the other families as they come along! :D**

**Please take time to review, comment, and criticize what you want!**

**Love,**

**Petaldancer**


	3. Sea Ports Are Bad Places To Do Business

**AN: Hey everyone! I'm kind of proud of my uploading speed for this story! Thankfully, I have a lot of plans for this story and I'm hoping it goes super far. :D**

**Thanks to those who reviewed! I love you muchly!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Sea Ports Are Bad Places To Do Business<span>**

Arthur Kirkland smiled as his lover wrapped his arms around him while he worked.

"Love you, Artie."

"Love you too, brat." He looked up and smiled into the face of one noisy American. Staring into his deep blue eyes, they shared a small peck on the lips before he continued to view the papers on his desk (although according to Alfred, he wasn't allowed to touch them or pick up a pen). He had just barely assigned Chips to shut down the ports Antonio had discussed with him, and Halibut was in charge of the crew this time around, making sure that none of the boats tried to escape. Before Alfred had barged in, claiming that today was the day they had their first official date.

Arthur had pointed out that it was 12:30am and their date started later that day at 12:30pm, but Alfred just grinned and said that he wanted his first official date present early. The Boss of Britannia squawked indignantly, asking, "Whoever heard of a "first official date present?"

"I want you to stop working so late and come home as a present!"

"What? But I have to read these papers and…"

"It's already _today_—"

"But I need to—"

"Fine, Artie. But you aren't allowed to even _touch_ them or pick up a pen."

"How the hell am I supposed to read more than one page if I can't touch them?"

"Here," and he then moved the pages so they were side-by-side, allowing him full access to the papers.

Arthur scowled slightly in annoyance but when he glanced at Alfred's satisfied expression, he held back his biting remarks.

He sighed, "Alright, git."

Which lead them to now, with Alfred's arms wrapped around him, staring down at the papers in confusion.

"I never understood Mafia stuff."

"Of course you don't, everything is in code."

"Oh, well everything in the White House was code as well. Back when I was in the CIA of course. I can't tell you about it though, it's top secret stuff."

Arthur looked up and saw Alfred grinning down at him.

"I'm sure," and he patted the American's cheek, "come here love, I'll show you how to read the Britannia code."

With the American reading over his shoulder, their first official date began.

* * *

><p>Antonio narrowed his eyes into the nightfall that shadowed the port at 12:23am, Ciro standing behind him nervously. Previously, one of Britannia's men, Halibut, had contacted him and revealed that the Guaio family had two more ports they were going to use to ship the children. He then offered Britannia's services, "Boss' orders." Antonio had thanked him and the Spagna and Britannia Familia had split the ports amongst themselves.<p>

"Boss… why did you decide to come again?"

He flashed a dangerously cheerful grin at his right hand man, "Even Bosses want to be in the action sometime, Ciro." He patted his shoulder, "Either way, these pigs have to be taught a lesson, _si_?"

"_Si_, Boss."

The other men and women in their dispatch group were positioned in specific places, eyes trained on the ship they suspected was one of the vessels for the Guaio trafficking network.

Antonio spotted a single man walking on the wooden, salt stained, planks that made up the port. He was rolling a large barrel with him, and Ciro hitched a breath, barely stopping a gasp from escaping.

The children's traveling conditions were worse than they thought.

The Spagna Boss tapped his earpiece, contacting his henchmen.

"Snipers, keep an eye out for them. Spagna, don't begin operations yet, wait until more flock in."

"Yes, Boss." All of them chorused. Antonio adjusted his headpiece to a different frequency.

"Concetta?"

"_Si_?" A high-pitched woman's voice answered.

"When the Guaio come, I want you to match their profiles and see if you can link them to any other transports. We're going to try and find the rest of the children."

"_Si—"_

"Boss, they're coming."

Indeed, a group of men all carrying or rolling around large barrels started walking into the port. They began to carry them into the cargo docks of the ship.

"Where is Boss Adriano?" A blond man in a beige jacket biting on the tip of a lit cigarette asked another man carrying one of the barrels.

"He said that he had other business to carry out, Sir."

"Strange, he never misses the imports."

The man with the barrel shrugged, "He is a busy man, you of all people should know that. Since you're going to take his place someday."

Antonio broke into a grin: the heir was here.

The blond man exhaled some smoke and laughed, "You mean soon. I just wish that brunette chit would stop her assaults. She's such a persistent women."

"Haha, aren't all women like that? Either way, she is a fiery one, I wouldn't mind having her in bed." The man with the barrel laughed raucously but stopped at the blond's pointed glance.

"Not if you want to have children."

"Sir, sorry to interrupt you, but we're all set and just waiting for Celio here."

"Oh."

"Well Celio," the blond man gestured to his companion, "you better start rolling your barrels."

Antonio tapped his headpiece, "you heard that, start the operation guys."

"_Si_."

His men were quick, instantly appearing from their positions and training guns on the Guaio henchmen. Some tried to make a quick escape, but the Spagna's specialized hit team made quick work of them and rounded them back to the central group of Guaio men.

The Guaio henchmen and their heir were quickly surrounded in a sea of black suits.

The blond man stood in the center, his face stricken in shock.

"I don't understand," the man in the center started, "why are the Spagna here?"

The Spagna Boss then came out of his position, the lights from above giving ominous shadows to his face.

"The question should be," Antonio pierced the man with his green eyes, "'why are the _Guaio_ here?'"

The man they came to know as Celio began to shout, "Haha, I know the Spagna. They don't shoot until it's necessary! Boss will come to get us easily!"

There was nervous laughing within the crowd but the sound of a crunch turned heads. Celio started screaming as one of his fingers was broken.

"That's fine," As Antonio began to pace around the blond man, ignoring the cries of the heir's assistant, "let Adriano come."

"I am fully prepared to make him pay for what he has done." He put a hand on the man's chin and forced him to look up, "starting with the heir to your familia." He gave a cheerful smile, and after the blond man began to start shaking, he laughed and pulled out his gun aiming it at the man's head.

"Tango, Samba, Mambo, Seguidilla, " he addressed some of his own familia, "please start opening the barrels."

"The rest of Spagna, please escort the Guaio to Prison 41."

As the noise of cracking wood resounded throughout the area and the Guaio were being shackled, the Spaniard turned his attention back to the heir.

"Now you," He grabbed the other man's tie, "are coming with me so we can have a lovely chat." The blond nodded furiously, still terrified of the gun pressed to his temple.

"Oh, but first, before I forget," Antonio grinned happily at the man who stared back in fear and then knocked the blond out with the butt of his gun.

"Matachin," he called for the man in charge of Spagna prisoners, "take him to the Headquarters' lower levels into cell 27."

The black-haired man he addressed gave a salute, "Boss," and then shouted orders for the man to be carried into the back of the van, tied up, and gagged.

"Boss," Tango, a fair-haired women and the Familia's head doctor, called him over, "You need to see this." Her tone sounded distressed.

A frown etched on Antonio's face as he walked over to one of the cracked open barrels.

Near the barrel was indeed a child. He was covered in grime and blood. His jet-black hair was curled and tangled into a sticky knot, and his arm was so thin that the bones were jutting out. A scar in the shape of Guaio's coat of arms (two guns crossed over each other) was half bleeding on his torso, oozing pus and the skin around it was turning purple, obviously infected.

The child sat on the ground with his knees drawn up, a blanket covering him, and he rocked back and forth, eyes slightly open.

Antonio felt lead drop in his stomach and bile rise to his throat; he tried to reach out his hand to offer some kind of comfort but Tango grasped it before he could touch the boy. The child did nothing to respond but continued to rock in a slow rhythm.

"I think it's best not to touch him at the moment," Tango whispered, trying not to startle the boy too much from his trance, "when Samba opened the barrel and tried to pull the dear boy out, he started a fit and tried to scramble away from him. When I touched him however, I got no reaction. He obviously needs to be conditioned out of this reaction." Tango grasped his shoulder and moved his rocking body closer to hers so that she could examine him more.

"I'll let you know about the conditions of these children."

"Alright," Antonio nodded, swallowing hard at the sight of the several children being pulled out of barrels having similar reactions or having none at all.

"Boss."

"Ciro," his right hand ran over to him, panting, as he had been running around in both operations.

"We've loaded the Guaio into our vans, and they're on the way to Prison 41."

"Good," Antonio stated, not in the mood to smile after the sight of the children.

He began the walk to his limo, a heavy atmosphere weighed down upon him.

Where would they keep these children? They obviously needed a place to rehabilitate, but sending them to the police would bring trouble to his Familia and the Government would begin to snoop into these dealings.

He couldn't allow that.

The Spaniard carded a hand through his brunet hair, making the curls spike out in certain placed.

As he arrived at the limo, Ciro (who had apparently followed behind him) opened the door for him. He ducked his head and sat inside, still pondering.

They would need a place that had extremely good security and a full medical staff capable of treating these children.

He barely noticed Ciro sitting next to him on the other side and ordering the driver to begin the long drive back to Headquarters.

As the street lights shone in the streets and into the car, flashing by in bursts, Antonio stared at his feet.

A hand touched his shoulder, giving it a small shake, and Antonio looked up, realizing that he spaced out for a couple minutes.

Ciro looked at him concerned, blood and grime covering him from pulling out children from the barrels.

"Boss, are you alright?"

Antonio sighed and didn't try to conjure up his usual smile.

"I got a call from Francis, he said that the rest of the ports were successfully infiltrated and the ships were intercepted and destroyed." Ciro began, pulling out a bottle of strong liquor and pouring it one of the wine glasses, handing it to his boss. "One of the ports was wrecked though, someone shot an oil drum and part of the port exploded. They got the children out in time."

"Good."

The Spagna Boss nodded, listening intently as he sipped the liquor and felt the strong burn running down his throat.

"Francis also said that he wants to discuss with you about what to do with the children."

"Alright," Antonio nodded wearily, "did he mention about where we put the children now?"

"He said that he could take them to his orphanage for now, but as you know, they are already very packed and are running out of rations and rooms."

"What about their treatment?"

"Francis is still uncertain, but he did mention an idea that he wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"He says to meet in his orchards this afternoon."

The brunet smiled slightly to that. Francis was part of the Spagna Familia, however he was more of an outside councilor since he ran a full time orphanage and a couple restaurants. He was also one of his best friends, and often helped him with infiltrations when a stronger authority figure than his higher-ranking henchmen was needed. Indeed, he had asked Francis to help him with some of the ports that Britannia and Spagna hadn't covered; because although their families were powerful and expansive in number, they couldn't dispatch the entire family in one operation.

Everyone in Spagna and Britannia knew him as the "Seeker of Love," although Antonio personally was never a witness to this. All he got were odd hugs.

"Boss, we're here." Ciro interrupted once more.

"Thanks." Antonio snapped out of his thoughts, climbing out of the limo, feeling the heavy tension on his shoulders lighten a little bit as he thought of the idea Francis mentioned. Perhaps he could help these children into a better future; one better than his.

* * *

><p>He knocked on the door.<p>

"Ah, Lovino, come in little _bambino_."

"I'm not a _bambino_ anymore, Gramps," he muttered under his breath as he walked into the grandiose room.

Gold lined the bedroom with twists of red and cream. His grandfather was rested under the sheets, still as muscular as ever, but his skin was a sickly pale, not the warm tan he had five years ago.

He gestured with a hairy hand for his grandson to come over.

Lovino sat on the cushioned seat that was placed next to his bed.

"You are still a little one to me, _bambino_." He pet his head and proceeded to create a bird's nest out of his hair and then chuckled at Lovino's blushing face. "If you still blush like a tomato, you're definitely still a _bambino_."

"Shut up."

"Ah, ah. Language Lovino. Your brother never says words like that." Lovino scowled at the mention of his brother; another thing that his brother was better at. Gramps smiled at him and then laughed heartily, as if he wasn't on his deathbed waiting for cancer to claim him.

"I see that you're a little jealous of your little brother."

"What? Who told you dammit—?"

"No one told me, and language." He interrupted, waving away the elder brother's complaints, "your face is open like a book."

Lovino turned bright red once more. Stupid blood in his stupid cheeks—

"But that is what I like about you, Lovino."

What?

"Your brother is naïve, innocent, and pure: something that he should keep in his life. He is very honest, quite talented, rather smart despite his appearances, and a good grandson." The heir swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to see through the blur of tears in his eyes—he blamed it obviously on the dust.

"He is not you Lovino. You are not him."

"Well, fuck yeah. If I were like that _idiota,_ we'd both be stuck in a ditch twelve years ago." He defended unnecessarily, but had the urge to point it out anyways. Without his smarts, they would have not survived the aftermath of the murder of both their parents. Of course, he never told Feliciano that their parents were murdered, he would suffer from anguish and lose that pure innocence he has.

"Haha, _bambino_, it seems that the answer you are searching for has already been unknowingly discovered by yourself."

"Huh?"

"You wanted to ask me why I chose you to be my heir, right?"

"Huh?" he repeated again, shocked at Gramps' accurate assumption.

"I'll take that as a yes," his grandfather chuckled at his grandson's face, "well you see Lovino…" He raised himself up into a sitting position, drawing an exclamation from Lovino.

"You have something that Feliciano will never have." Lovino leaned closer, hearing his grandfather's words intently.

"You have a special strength—"

"I'm not strong at all, dammit!"

"Not that kind, _bambino._ Don't be so literal."

After he watched Lovino's face transform a deep red, he continued, "You have the street smarts, a sharp brain, good leadership, an open, honest face, but most of all: you take care of your family like none I have ever encountered."

The heir sat, his face surprised and frozen in between a smile and confusion.

"Hahaha, Lovino. Do you remember when we first met?"

"You scared off ten years on my lifespan when you started laughing, chigi! Of course I fucking remember!" He puffed out a cheek.

"I was impressed," his grandfather smiled, "at first by how good you were at using your sauvé Vargas charm (of course, it comes from me) and then how far you were willing to go for Feliciano. Through these five years you have proved yourself again and again to care for your own famiglia and Roma itself."

Silence permeated the room as Gramps gave him time to think.

"You… explained why you wanted to have me be your heir," Lovino started, unsure, his voice timid, "but why haven't you taught me anything of how to be a boss?" He ran a hand through his auburn hair, "how the hell am I supposed to run the fucking Roma Famiglia if you won't teach me anything!" He glared at Gramps, who just continued to smile at him. "Dammit, you even taught Feliciano crap and the only thing that I've learned from you on how to be a Boss is that making allies is good, striking down enemies is also good, and how to do a bunch of paperwork." He got up, pacing, "and I already knew how to do that before (besides the paperwork), chigi." With a frustrated sigh, he glanced at Gramps and saw that the man was slowly falling asleep, something he had been doing often lately.

"Don't fall asleep yet, old man. I'm trying to ask you a question dammit! What am I supposed to do? I'll be introduced as your heir next week, and I don't even know if there are any mannerisms I have to learn or crazy shit I have to know or some kind of secret handshake—?"

"_Bambino_," The Boss interrupted, motioning for his grandson to come closer, "you don't need to learn," he smiled warmly, his brown eyes closed in happiness. He put a strong, but dangerously pale hand on his grandson's auburn head. "Just love your Famiglia."

Lovino's face twisted into confusion, "What? how—"

"Now let your Gramps get some sleep, I'm getting older and older by the second."

"But—"

"Shoo, little Lovino."

"What…whatever…" The heir stated, and then he became red-faced as he pulled some of his hair behind his ear and gave Gramps a kiss on each cheek.

"and?" Gramps raised an eyebrow.

"T-ti amo…" Lovino whispered before rushing out of the room, not hearing his grandfather's last words.

"Ti amo, Lovino, Feliciano. Addio…"

That night, Gramps fell into a coma.

* * *

><p>The house was quaint and average sized framed with cherry colored wood. The windowpanes closed to prevent the rain from entering the house. It was late in the afternoon.<p>

Feliciano cuddled onto the cushioned chair of Ludwig's kitchen, clutching a steaming cup of Italian espresso in his hands, and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he continued to sniff, trying to hold back tears but failing.

He watched his built, blond friend cook place some peeled potatoes into the boiling pot of water and then walk to the fridge, searching for some of his homemade wurst.

Gramps had fallen into a coma, and in fact, it was Feliciano that had found him that way.

This afternoon, he had wanted to ask Gramps a question, and after entering, he tried to wake his grandfather up, since he was instructed to be awake around this time. No matter what Feliciano did, Gramps wouldn't wake. It was then that he noticed Gramps' skin was a sickly pale, like his life was slowly slipping away, and it was then that Feliciano had burst out of the room, screaming for someone to help.

Several Mafiosi ran into the room and after rushing Gramps to their private hospital, they found that he had slipped into a deep coma.

Feliciano tried to distract himself from his thoughts when he felt his chest start to weigh down in depression, and turned his attention back to his friend's back while the German cooked.

He watched the muscles ripple across the man's back, his black sleeveless shirt clinging to his muscles like a second skin. Feliciano made an accidental, small, appreciative "Ve" that made the German turn around in inquiry.

Feliciano took a sip of his coffee, trying to cover the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"What is it?" Ludwig asked, his ice blue eyes looking over his strangely red friend.

"Do you have a cold?" He turned down the burner on the stove and put his ladle down, walking over to his best friend. He placed a hand on his burning face, "you seem to be okay."

"Ve~" was Feliciano's answer, as Ludwig continued to examine his face. He noted the tear tracks that ran down his cheeks were still wet, and his nose was red from constant sniffing and tissue using. He looked further south, eyes resting on the italian's pouting lips. His heart suddenly jumped and a sudden blush tried to make itself present in Ludwig's cheeks, but he looked up quickly, urging it down in slight confusion. His eyes landed to Feliciano's amber irises and he quickly looked away, feeling his heart stop and his blood rush. What was that? Was _he_ sick or something? He resisted the urge to feel his own forehead and looked down, not seeing the small smile on the italian's lips.

"Are you… alright?"

Feliciano's smile faded and he sighed, "He's passing on and I couldn't even say good bye." He buried his head in his knees, putting down the still steaming cup of espresso on Ludwig's granite counters.

"He," he hitched a breath and tried to continue, "he helped us so much. He gave us such nice lives, and he was knew the right things to say when I was sad or to make me laugh. He was such a wise person, and had a really kind heart." His voice broke with a sob, and he lifted a hand to wipe at his tears. Ludwig sat next to him, unsure of what to do. The German lifted a hand and rubbed soothing circles in his back.

"And, and when I told Lovino about what happened, he ran out of the house and looked really angry." He looked up at Ludwig, his eyes still red and his mouth curled in a frown. "Do you think that Lovi hates Gramps?"

Ludwig frowned, he didn't know much about the older Vargas brother, "I'm not sure. Does it seem like he does?"

"He often rants about him and always says that Gramps doesn't care about him at all." Feliciano whispered, leaning closer to his friend, "That's not true though. Whenever I talk to Gramps and even when he's teaching me lessons, Gramps is always talking about how I should spend time with him and is teaching me how to help him when he becomes Boss." He bit his lip and looked at Ludwig with a serious expression, "Don't tell anyone that I told you that, okay? I made a promise to Gramps not to tell anyone and especially not Lovi. Gramps said that 'Lovi had to figure out what he is supposed to do on his own.'"

Ludwig listened carefully; noticing that the Italian had slowly began switching topics to his brother. He would go along with the change, but he knew that he and Feliciano would have to talk more about his grandfather sooner or later.

"Your brother, from the few times I've met him, has often insulted me one way or another. But you know, he seems to have a good heart. He's taken care of you for all your life, right?"

Feliciano nodded, his mouth set into a more pondering expression, "Ve, he has a really nice heart, but he doesn't like showing it to other people. He thinks it makes him vulnerable." He scooted closer to his friend, taking in his warmth and appreciating the German's willingness to change topics. "You know, I don't remember my parents too well. My _Mamma_ and_ Papá _were always out, doing their jobs. Now that I think about it, they might have been in the Mafia." He cocked his head in interest, "maybe. I'm not sure what happened to them though, they just left and never came back one day." He lowered his amber eyes to the ground and then he perked up, remembering something.

He smiled as he turned to Ludwig though, making the blond look away quickly, "I do remember that my mom sang a special song to us when she was home to tuck us in bed though," Feliciano smiled sweetly as he recalled, "After my parents were gone, Lovi always sang that song for me every night instead when he tucked me in."

"He stopped after we met Gramps though, I guess he just thought that we were too old then or maybe that we wouldn't need that song anymore, since Gramps was here to take care of us…"

He pushed the blanket away from him and Ludwig moved to help him untangle himself but sat frozen as Feliciano embraced him in a hug. Awkward with the situation and with a slight blush on his face, he wrapped his arms around the Italian and they were silent for a few long minutes. The rain pattered softly on the windows.

When Feliciano fell asleep, Ludwig took care to carry him to the guest room where he usually stayed. Although for some reason whenever he woke up the next morning, his friend had somehow wormed his way into his sheets. He just took it as a special quirk the Italian had.

As he came back into his kitchen and turned off the burner, pouring the potatoes into the strainer and spraying them with cold water, he started to think back to Feliciano and his past.

Ludwig and his brother were both born in West and East Germany respectively and lived there until he was eleven. He himself had never known his parents, since they had died when he was two, leaving his older brother, Gilbert, to take care of them both at the age of seven. He and his brother had learned the harsh realities of life quickly, since Gilbert wasn't old enough for any jobs, he had learned to steal food and beg for it from wealthy families or dig through trash to find things to sell.

It was when Ludwig was eleven that they were found by their uncle while in living in a rented motel room. Then, their lives had started to look up.

Their uncle, a strict and graceful man with long blond hair, although gone now, had an acquaintance in the Mafia who had turned out to be the Boss of the Roma. The Familie took them in as unofficial members of Roma, and although he didn't know the Boss personally, Gilbert had met him a couple times as his brother trained to become an accomplished hit man.

Five years ago, he met the youngest grandchild of the Boss, Feliciano at a welcoming party for new Roma Familie Mafiosi. They had become great friends.

The stern German pulled the strainer full of potatoes out of the sink and eyed the wurst he had pulled out earlier. Wurst was one of his favorite foods but… he glanced at the stairs that led to the guestroom, Feliciano wasn't as fond of them as he was. Aiming to make his friend as comfortable as possible, he scavenged through the pantry to find a package of penne he forgot he had bought. Cutting the package and placing the pasta in boiling water, he began to make pasta for his melancholic friend.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong>

**Notes: Familie is "Family" in German**

**Ti Amo is "I Love You" in Italian**

**Addio is "Farewell."**

**I'm sure you can guess what the others mean.**

**In other news, I hope you all guessed correctly as to what the members of the Spagna Familia are named after? Please review, review, review! Thanks for reading and I'll see you next update!**

**Next Chapter: Antonio and Francis chat it up about the children and an interesting idea comes along. Lovino throws some shovels. **

**Love you all!**

**-Petaldancer**


	4. Hiding

**Hey everyone! I know that it's been a long while, but I've been adjusting to college life and I'm getting kind of homesick...**

**Either way, this chapter is all about memories. Since Lovi needs to figure out some stuff later on and I'm sure this will interest you in some way shape or form...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Hiding<span>**

Lovino sat in one of the Roma greenhouses, smudges of dirt on his face and on his casual tan shorts. The rain outside pattered on the roof, making his mood sink deeper and deeper into depression, but he tried to ignore it as he worked on his tomato plants, moving a plant that was growing too big for its pot into the nutrient filled plot of soil he had raked up. He dug a gloved hand into the dirt, making a hole for the roots of the tomato to sit in. He worked in silence, filing the hole back up with the rich soil and giving the pile a firm pat, making sure that the tomato plant was still okay next to its companions.

As his hands worked, his mind began to wonder to the subject of his grandfather.

_Gramps… Oh god how did I not notice he was about to go into a coma?_ His vision began to blur but rubbed his eyes with one of his cleaner arms and kept working.

How could he not have noticed the signs? Gramps was weaker that day, laughed less, his skin was paler, and Lovino was sure that right after he left, his Gramps said something. It might have been important, and he was stupid enough to not even listen to his last words and—

He threw a shovel at one of the wooden planks that were propped up against the glass wall and it struck a deep gash in the wood. A sob tore out of his throat and he threw his gloves to the ground, not caring at all about his appearance, shot a glare at one of the bushes he knew Fusilli was hiding in and ran out of Headquarters, Fusilli stopping others from running out of their positions and after him.

* * *

><p>Francis gave his Spanish friend a warm hug, feeling to see if he had gotten any buffer since the last time they had met, in his friend's obliviousness.<p>

"Antonio, _bienvenue_, please come take a seat," he gestured to one of the tables he had placed in his orchard for these kinds of occasions. The orchard suited as a place for personal or private meetings that were often Mafia related. Orchids lined the beams above them and vines grew along slim white columns, white flowers of all kinds lay in their beds and various butterflies fluttered about, not able to escape the orchard because of the glass walls that shut out the elements. Speaking of which, the rain was beginning to lighten up and Francis smiled, walking into the small kitchen attached to the orchards to fetch his pastries for Antonio to try.

As he came back to his friend who was sitting with a small frown on his face, he sighed and placed the plate of pastries on the glass table.

"Beignets filled with fresh strawberries, powdered sugar and fresh whipped cream for garnish."

He pushed the plate in front of his friend and pulled out the chilled wine that lay in the bucket by their feet. Opening the bottle and letting the fizz die down, he poured the drink into their cold wine glasses and then sat down, watching his friend take unusually small bites.

"So about the children, _Mon ami_, where are they now?"

"They're staying in the spare rooms around headquarters, but there isn't anything we can do about their mental state."

"I suggest you bring them to the _Lilian_, that orphanage has a better supply of medical supplies and food, but it won't hold them for long."

Antonio nodded, chewing on the beignet with some thought.

"You mentioned a plan in your call with Ciro?"

"_Oui_, I have an idea of where you could place the children without too much hassle and they would be treated well." Francis smiled, tucking a piece of long blond hair behind his ear.

"I'm not sure if you'll agree to this though."

"Francis, _mi amigo_, when has your advice ever gone wrong?" the Spaniard smiled, placing a warm strawberry in his mouth.

"True," the Frenchman returned the smile, sipping on his delicate wine. He put the glass down and looked straight into the Spaniard's forest green eyes.

"I have heard rumors," Antonio cocked his head with interest, "that the Roma Famille is building a nursery for their mafiosi's children. A safe haven for them to play and for their parents to work, so to speak."

Antonio's face drew a blank at the mention of the Roma, the Spagna and Roma Familia were distant with each other, and after a long scuffle, they decided to maintain neutrality. This was, however, before he was born. Currently, the Spagna and Roma Familia were wary and often had no relations in business. But he knew their ruthlessness when it came to those outside their Familia, there was no way they would agree to any kind of business the Spagna would propose.

Slowly, his thoughts turned to a fiery Italian with burning hazel eyes and a dirty mouth. His face floated into his thoughts and he spaced out, mesmerized by his intensity. Those honest expressions while he cursed him out ever so cutely. Like a tomato…

"Antonio? _Mon_ _ami?_"

"Mn?" The Spagna Boss turned to his companion, unaware if Francis had said anything in the last few seconds.

"You have a distant look in your eyes," Francis commented, staring at him with sudden scrutiny and then comprehension, leaning forward with a sly smile playing his face, "Ah, you have found a sweet little fish, _non_?"

Antonio blinked. "Fish? I haven't gone fishing in years."

The Frenchman resisted the urge to slap him, "Never mind, Antonio."

"Oh, okay. I don't know why you suddenly started talking about fish though. But anyways, I doubt that the Roma would be too accepting of those outside their Familia. Especially not from us."

"_Oui_, I understand the fragility between your alliance with them, however, this would provide a bridge to better relations. Besides, the Roma seem to have a soft spot for children recently."

"A soft spot for children? Since when? And what would be the point of connecting to ruthless Mafia like Roma?" Antonio furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Francis smiled, and placed another beignet on his friend's plate, distracting the Spaniard from asking more probing questions, "They may be ruthless, but you can't deny they would be powerful allies. They take care of their own."

The Spaniard took another bite out of his beignet, lost in consideration.

"I'll think about it, Francis." He said, sipping on his starting to warm wine.

"Good, good. Would you like some more whipped cream, _mon ami?_"

"_Si,_ _gracis mi amigo_."

They ate in silence, the sound of forks clinking on the plates creating a comfortable atmosphere. The rain outside had stopped.

Antonio's gaze drifted over the orchids lying delicately throughout the orchard. After a slight cough, he turned back to his friend.

"When will you send the children over?"

"Tonight."

* * *

><p>Lovino stood in front of the safe house he had used just a few days ago as a lie to one tomato-bastard. The idiot hadn't crossed his mind in days now; he was too busy to ponder about something stupid anyways. He turned his head towards the sky. The rain had stopped now, the water dripping from the roof of the cozy house he often stayed at when his <em>fratello<em> wasn't home; most likely at that buff German's house. He rubbed his eyes with a part of his arm that was still clean and unlocking the door, he entered.

The house itself was quite simple, with warm and comfortable furniture and a refrigerator he kept well stocked. He turned the light on, and took off his boots, grabbed some spare clothes from the drawers of the bedroom, and went into the bathroom to take a shower and clear his mind.

As he turned the hot water on and stepped into the steamed glass stall, he began to think, the water relaxing his tense muscles, droplets tracing the ridges of his back.

Gramps was going on.

He felt his breath hitch as he started to cry once more. This time he let the sobs break free, filling the bathroom with torn cries.

There were so many things left unsaid, and he hadn't had a chance to even say that he loved him one more time, and he still needed to show Gramps that he would be a good Boss and a good heir and—and…he just knew that he wouldn't be able to see his grandfather's eyes open again.

His slender frame shook with his cries, and he hugged himself tight, standing under the hot water.

He still remembered the moment his grandfather had met him the second time, protecting him from a group of thugs.

It was a few days after he had first met Gramps, then thinking that he had met a very, very insane man.

He just came back from his early morning "work", to wake up his _fratello_, when he saw that his apartment door stood ajar, the hinges barely holding on.

Lovino rushed straight in, startled at the little furniture they had, had been upturned or broken. The walls had marks and dents from what looked like a crowbar. All the cabinets, the pantry, even the barely running refrigerator had been robbed clean.

_Mio Dio._

The Italian stood, eyes wide as he took in the sight of their abode, he glanced toward a packet of pasta, broken on the ground. _Feliciano. _Lovino swirled around, his heart pounding loudly as he headed towards his brother's bedroom.

He ran through the small apartment, screaming his brother's name, not caring if the culprits might still be in their home.

As he swerved around a corner that led to his brother's bedroom, the soles of his torn sneakers left marks on the floor. Just as he was about to yell his _fratello's_ name once more, the smell of cigarette smoke that he had long washed off his own belongings caught him off guard and he dropped to the ground on reflex, a crowbar barely missing his head.

A fit, muscular thug stood above him, tapping the metal on his shoulder in a teasing way. His head was shaven clean, and standing next to him was a man wearing a stiff leather jacket, sunglasses perched in his obviously dyed hair.

He glanced past the both men's feet to glance into the bedroom, his brother was hiding under the bed and staring straight at him, eyes wide in fear, tears trailing down his face.

"Hey, is this the one?" Lovino quickly averted his eyes, paying attention to the bald man above him.

"I think so, I'm not sure. Where is the other one?"

Lovino mentally smacked himself for leaving his body vulnerable and scrambled up, backing away from the bald man with the crowbar. Swerving his auburn head behind him, he saw the leering store keeper from a few days ago. The same store he had stolen the rigatoni from for his _fratello_.

"Shit."

"You and your brother are in it deep," the storekeeper chuckled, his leer coming back full force. "No one steals from my shop, kid."

He prowled towards Lovino's scared but defiant form, his eyes mentally stripping him, his leer turned perverted and his mouth curled into a grin.

"I'm sure I could sell you to some rich client for a lot of money."

"Fuck off!" Lovino spat and recoiled in disgust as the man tried to caress his cheek.

"You're feisty, I like that. People pay high if they're not broken you know." The older Vargas bared his teeth, his eyes glancing around for any kind of weapon he could use. At least they had stopped the search for his brother. The storekeeper was inching closer almost drooling, and the other two men watched with amusement.

"Maybe I should keep you to myself? I have plenty of toys—"

Lovino's fist met his face with the hardest punch he could muster. A crack resonated through the small apartment, signaling that the storekeeper howling in pain had broken his nose.

The two thugs advanced quickly and Lovino picked up the piece of glass lying next to his foot, the glass cutting through his hand, but he could hardly care.

Baldy, as he had dubbed him, swung the crowbar towards his stomach and he backed away, tripping over the torn couch, his head hitting the back of the couch with a thump.

The metal swung down towards his head and he rolled to the side, shards ripping through his shirt. Lovino quickly plunged the glass into the man's leg, causing Baldy to scream and the other man to curse, pulling out a gun. The Vargas brother scrambled up and ran, skidding through the torn apartment and ducking down, swerving left and right to avoid the gunshots that blasted the remaining furniture around him.

"Stop moving so fast!"

"Shut up, anf helm me wit this nose!"

Lovino ran out of the apartment, jumping down several steps at a time to get some kind of leeway.

As he ran out of the apartment, he screamed for help, strangers on the street glanced at him and backed away, afraid to get into any trouble. The blood in his hand was starting to drip down on the cracked pavement and he saw the two thugs point at him through the window of his apartment, yelling to get him.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."

Lovino weaved between the strangers, pushing past staring crowds of people. Almost tripping over a kid, he made his way to the tight crevices of the older building in their neighborhood.

His head pounded with adrenaline and when he spotted a shadow covered area, he bolted towards it, feet striking the pavement.

As he found a tight spot, he stopped there to catch his breath, the tops of the buildings obscuring the light and casting darkness where he was squeezed.

Suddenly he could hear more shouting, this time from different people.

"Where the hell is he?"

"Did you say he had hazel eyes or blue eyes?"

"They said he went in there!"

"He's this way!"

"Quick!"

Footsteps mixed erratically as the voices went in different directions, and then started to pound closer to his hiding spot. Lovino held his breath, hoping they wouldn't find him.

"Just follow the blood!"

His face paled, glancing down at his bleeding hand. Fuck. He was fucked. Maybe even literally. He clenched his fist, trying to make the blood stop, his breath rushed out and then became becoming more desperate. No, dammit. Now was not the time to hyperventilate.

"I think he's in here!" A voice was dangerously close to his position and he tried to hold his breath again, panic rising to his throat, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He didn't want to die. Fuck he still had Feliciano and—

"_Bambino_, come here."

He turned his head and saw a hairy, big hand. He recognized it from a few days ago. The muscular, rich man.

"Don't just stand there, I'm here to help you." The voice was rough, but Lovino had a feeling he could trust this man. He grasped the man's hand and was suddenly pulled out of his hiding spot and into the chest of the older gentleman.

"Follow me, _bambino_."

He rushed forward blindly, trusting the man to guide him through the darkness. The occasional cracks of sunshine revealed the man's expensive suit, his darker auburn hair with prominent curls, and a shining ruby ring that sat on his left hand.

The man pulled him forward and into the blinding light, causing him to squint his eyes.

"There he is!" His heart skipped a beat as he spotted the sunglasses-dyed-hair-bastard from before. Several thugs following after him, and the storekeeper trailed behind, a cloth to his broken nose.

"Hey you!" he pointed to the muscular gentleman, "Get the fuck out of the way." He aimed his gun at the man.

The man only gave him a shit-eating grin.

He hugged Lovino in a tight squeeze, putting an arm around his shoulders and close to his built chest. He smelled like lemon trees.

"I think you're messing with the wrong Famiglia, _il mio amico_."

The sunglasses-bastard only smirked, "Do you know who we are? We're the Sparrows! The strongest gang in this neighborhood," He then gestured for the man to get out of the way, "now fuck off old man!"

The smile decreased slightly, and suddenly the curly haired man's stare darkened.

"Farro."

A woman wearing a deep red overcoat and long brown hair stepped into view, black rimmed glasses perched on her elegant nose, covering deep blue eyes.

"_Si_, Boss."

The storekeeper's face paled as he got a good view over the blood covered cloth of the man they were threatening.

He stepped up to the sunglasses-bastard and slapped him on the back of the head, causing his sunglasses to fall to his face.

"You _idiota! Merda!_ Don't you know who that is?"

"I—"

"Boss!" Several men and women stepped out from the shadows, wearing black suits, and carrying guns. They outnumbered them 31 to 14.

Lovino looked up to the dangerously grinning man pressing him to his chest, the awe overcoming the pain from the small cuts he had sustained from his roll in the glass of his apartment.

Who the hell was he?

"Do you know who we are?" The man holding him asked mockingly.

He pulled Lovino closer, the smell of lemons enhanced by his proximity.

"We are the Roma Famiglia. The strongest mafia in all of Italy."

His grin turned up and the men and women in suits raised their guns, all pointed towards The Sparrows.

"And you just injured my grandsons."

* * *

><p>Lovino stood in the shower, a small smile on his face. Gramps was cool, despite his cryptic actions most of the time. However, the small smile quickly slipped off his face as he was reminded that his grandfather was…going on.<p>

He stood silent in the shower for a little while longer, lost in thought, and too tired to move; The water slowly becoming cold, pouring on his shivering back. His hair only damp after drying out once more, he snapped out of his daze and washed the soap out of his hair in the cold water. He stepped out of the shower, pulling a towel off the rack, he dried himself and didn't care to wrap the towel around his waist. Dropping it to the floor, he put on his clothes, and with a weary sigh, went downstairs.

It was late. The stars had shown brightly outside, the clouds had cleared. His eyes felt like they were going to drop any second, and his mind began to wander about, trying to avoid the topic of his grandfather, preferring not to think at all.

Opening the dresser drawer, he glanced at the pack of cigarettes lying innocently at the bottom.

He had forgotten about those, but the memory of when he bought those cigarettes hastily, desperate for some kind of comfort when he couldn't handle the burden anymore… he had decided not to then, figuring that his burdens weren't worth the trouble. Lovino stared hard at the pack, debating with himself. He had been clean for over five years.

His expression turned dazed, and he reached down to pick up the cigarettes—

His cell vibrated on the hard wood of the dresser's counter.

He glanced at his phone, noticing that he had gotten several messages. Half curious, he picked it up and read they were from Feliciano.

_Feliciano_…

As he read the messages, they all asked where he was, if he was coming home.

That Feliciano was at home waiting for him. That he needed him there.

Lovino felt his heart constrict and he tried to swallow a lump that just turned into slight tears.

His _fratello_ needed him home.

He shut the drawer with a slam, picked a jacket off the rack, shut the lights, locked the door, and then ran into the cool night air. To his _idiota fratello;_ To his home.

* * *

><p>Antonio sat on the park bench in his favorite tomato t-shirt and a pair of jeans, watching the shadows. The air was still moist from the previous storm, he sat uncaringly on his damp seat and began to think.<p>

Despite what many people thought, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was a thinker. He pondered much, and often he spent the time away from the mafia going over his past, turning over the memories like an old photo album. That, however, led him to the particular moment he had come across a fiery Italian. An escape from his duties, undercover of course, led to one of his favorite restaurants, which led to the irate man he had met.

Antonio frowned at that thought, wishing that the shorter man was still safe, and hopefully oblivious to the workings around him.

While in thought, he never noticed an auburn haired shadow sprinting behind him, smelling of lemons and cursing pavement. 

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah... sorry for such a short chapter, but like I said before. I have a lot of things on my mind and a lot of life stuff to take care of. Some advice for those still in highschool and living with their families: don't take your family for granted. Sometimes, they're the only thing you've really got. :)<strong>

** In other news, I'm not sure when I'll update again, so I'm going to call a hiatus! Of course, I intend on continuing this, but not until I get settled down and everything.**

**Peace!**

**-Petaldancer**


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